


Nude Model Wanted

by imnotpoeticanymore



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Artist Ian Gallagher, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Gallavich, M/M, Model Mickey Milkovich, Painting, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotpoeticanymore/pseuds/imnotpoeticanymore
Summary: Ian is just an art school kid in need of a model for figure painting. Mickey answers the call.





	1. Chapter 1

Buzz buzz buzz

The buzzer vibrated softly against Mickey’s index finger as he jammed it against the small button. He pushed it three times, for emphasis before stepping back from the door a step. He tapped his toe while waiting for a response from the buzzer, unsure if his tapping was nerves or just absent-minded jiggling. 

“Yes?” A voice from behind the buzzer asks. The voice is male, and Mickey could’ve sworn it sounded at least a little bit sultry. 

“I’m here for the fucking artist? He said this is his number.” Mickey says, not meaning to sound brisk but the cold Chicago wind was nipping at him even through his thick black parka. He wrapped his fingers around the front neck of his coat and held it tighter, trying to keep all the warmth he could inside the jacket. Rather than a vocal response, the man upstairs just buzzed the downstairs door open.

“Of course the artist, with his paintbrush up his ass, would be rude.” Mickey scoffs to himself as he heaves open the wrought iron barred front door backed with foggy glass. His first step inside the apartment building meets him with a sharp scent. Not quite piss, but not something pleasant either. Mickey considers it for a moment, as he takes in the bare tanish hallway, and decides that it is probably just some really bad weed. He shakes his head as he starts up the concrete steps to the third floor, wondering why he took this gig. 

The gig wasn’t even his idea. His friend and roommate, Gabe, had found an ad in whatever paper got flung on their apartment doorstep. The ad said something along the lines of “model needed, payment to be discussed. call at ***-***-****”. Mickey hadn’t actually seen the ad himself, doesn’t read the newspaper ever, so Gabe was the one to tell him about it. He brought it up while walking out the front door to his own job, web designing at some tiny company that paid him way less than he deserved but he loved it anyways. Mickey hated it because it often meant that he had to make up his friends half of the rent but he was happy that his friend was doing something he loved. Gabe had thrown the phone number out at him and told him to call for a one time only paying side gig. Mickey had called the number not ten minutes later, was engaged in a very short and nondescript conversation about when and where, and was on his merry way five days later. 

Mickey raised a fist to knock but instead was greeted with a loud “It’s unlocked” instead. He shifted his shoulders, slightly preparing for a fight or flight situation. He turned the brass knob and entered the apartment. At first glance it seemed empty, almost deserted. It was a simple one room flat, grays and metallics as the color scheme. There was a silver grey curtain hanging down, closing off about a third of the flat. On the other side there was one wall, Mickey could only assume that it was blocking off the toilet and shower. In the next corner there was just a futon sitting catty-corner on the floor, white sheets strewn haphazardly on and off of it. There were a couple of books on the floor next to the bed, as well as a pair of small glasses, and the only thing of color in this entire half of the apartment. It was a small plant. Overall the apartment had good light, even though there were only about three windows, though that was more than Mickey had expected when he first saw all the chrome. 

“I’m back here.” The voice spoke from behind the curtain. Mickey tensed for a moment, a small surge of panic running through him, which he just tries to shake off. 

“It’s fucking weird, dude, you talking all hidden and shit.” Mickey says as he walks to the curtain. Pulling it back he steps into the hidden other third of the room. 

“Sorry,” The voice comes from a man at the opposite end from Mickey. He has his back turned and is moving a lounging chair, almost identical to Mickey’s favorite video game chair that has in his own apartment. 

“It’s cool,” Mickey says, as his eyes glide over the back of the figure sizing him up. He has a strong back, Mickey can tell through his tight forest green shirt, and Mickey's mouth is starting to water. His gaze lowers, noting the seemingly wasp waist of the man, and landing on an ass that he could bounce a quarter off of. Mickey’s gaze almost doesn’t move when the man turns around, but he forces himself to look up at the artists face. 

“I’m Ian.” He holds out his hand to Mickey and it takes everything in his power to shove his hand out in the open too, in a semi-awkward hand shake. 

“Goddamn this guy is gorgeous. He should be the model not me.” Mickey thinks as he tries to recall what his fucking name is.

“Mickey.” He states, quickly and trying not to stutter. 

“Thank god you’re not ugly man, I didn't know what I was going to do if you were ugly.” Ian says with a laugh going back to where the chair was and setting up another one, with a straighter back across and at an angle from the lounging one. Mickey tries to smile at the comment Ian made but discovers that his facial muscles, his whole body actually, seems to be revolting against him, and refusing his request to move. Ian looks back at the poor Mickey, and gives him a pitiful smile. 

“Ever done this before?” He asks. Mickey shakes his head no, starting to regain control of his body.

“Perfect, I love virgins.” Ian winks and Mickey swears that Ian could hear his heart thumping, “They bring such a raw energy to the art. Well, you ready to start? Come over here and I will position you.” 

Mickey’s feet shuffle him in the direction of the chair, and once there he sits. He gains a confused look from Ian, then a laugh.

“You gotta strip before sitting down, man.” 

That snapped Mickey out of whatever the love fuck he was stuck in.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Mickey snaps.

“You have to take your clothes off before sitting down?” Ian repeats, once again confused.

“Who the fuck said anything about fucking stripping?” Mickey raises his voice, eyebrows arched at the confused artist. 

“The ad I put out?” Ian says though it comes out more of a question, looking at Mickey like he was slightly crazy. Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in Mickey’s head.

“Fucking Gabe.” Mickey mutters, realizing his overreaction, mistake, and embarrassment. He scrubs a hand over his face, dragging his mouth open a little, then looks up to Ian. 

“You’re looking for a fucking naked model for your painting?” Mickey clarifies, his tone even and cool again, looking to Ian hoping for a different answer.

“Yes…” Ian says nodding minutely, trying to size up what this kid was all about and what he might have just gotten himself into.

“Alright, fuck I’m sorry man, but I’m not modeling naked for some dude. That’s fucking weird, man.” Mickey says starting to walk back to the front door of the flat. Ian stares at the man’s back slowly comprehending what is happening before he paces his steps up to match Mickey’s.

“Wait, wait,” Ian says pausing right in front of Mickey, blocking his beeline to the front door. 

“What?” Mickey asks.

“What were you expecting?” Ian wonders. It wasn’t the question he was meaning to ask, but it was the first one out of his mouth. Mickey looked taken aback.

“I…I don’t know, man.” Mickey says, thinking, “I don’t think I actually thought about it. Gabe, my roommate, just told me about this paying side gig, and you weren’t descriptive about it on the phone either. So I don’t know what I expected. Well, not true, I half expected you to try and kill me when I first set foot in this place.” 

“I wasn’t descriptive on the phone because I assumed you had read the article and knew.” Ian sighs a little.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t so I’ll be fucking going now.” Mickey says giving him the ‘signing off’ eyebrows and attempting to push past Ian for the door. The guy was like a solid rock, though. He didn’t look it, all skinny and pale freckled skin and all but he didn’t move an inch from the pressure Mickey was pressing into him.

“The fuck dude?” Mickey asks, stepping back a pace.

“Okay, so ya see, I wouldn’t normally try to pressure someone into an art project with me,” Ian starts.  
 “Oh fuck no,” Mickey interrupts.

“…but this project is due in a month and literally no one else has gotten back to me from the ad so you are the only person I have.”

“No one responded to the ad because you sound like a fucking pervert.” Mickey added, not sounding malicious, just factual.   
“Yeah okay, so I get that now, but that still doesn’t end me up with more models.” Ian says, the beginning of puppy dog eyes budding on his adorable face. Mickey internally groaned, and kept repeating the mantra of ‘fuck no, that’s gay’. It didn’t work though, and Mickey found himself passively nodding to Ian and letting himself be lead back to the curtained portion of the flat.

“Fuck.” Mickey says as he stands beside the chair. 

“Just take them all off, I’m going to grab my camera to take the photos that I will later paint.” Ian says, turning around to go somewhere. Mickey can’t imagine him having anything else in this bare ass apartment.

“Wait, what the fuck, no one said anything about photos.” Mickey semi-shouts, stopping the progress he was making on the removal of his dark jeans. 

“These aren’t medieval times. You don’t want to sit in that chair all day, do you?” Ian asks, still walking to get the supplies. 

“No, dude, you do not get any evidence of this fucking shoot other than the one fucking painting.” Mickey shouts at Ian from across the flat. Ian shows back up from behind the curtain another second later, arms full of random shit. Ian walks to the still dressed Mickey and smirks at his undone jeans as he leaned down to drops the shit he gathered on the floor. 

“The fuck is all that?” Mickey asks, his other argument momentarily forgotten. 

“Props. For the shoot, or painting, if you really are against the idea of photo evidence.” Ian says, “It doesn’t fucking matter to me, I guess.” Mickey looks at Ian to gauge the situation, and decides that he was right in his earlier argument.

“No fucking photos.” Mickey repeats.

“So how do we wanna space this shit out then? I need three paintings, so that means we have to meet at least three times. You naked each time.” Ian added, looking at Mickey with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s the payment?” Mickey asks, crossing his arm to make the decision. Ian’s face redden’s for a moment. 

“Um…” Ian stutters, “Well, you see, I was planning on just getting the photos I needed, and then shoving the guy out without paying…” Ian says, not meeting Mickey’s eyes.

“The fuck man?” Mickey scoffs and straightens, throwing his hands in the air, “You were gonna get me fucking naked, take advantage of innocent Mickey, and then just shove me the fuck out with no compensation?” Mickey practically explodes. He begins doing his jeans back up.

“There wasn’t any fucking taking advantage of anyone, man!” Ian defends himself, “Unless the model fucking wanted it.” Ian adds suggestively making Mickey stop and look up, meeting Ian’s eyes. 

“What?” Mickey asks.

“Nothing suggestive would happen,” Ian reiterates, “Unless the model wanted it.” Mickey could swear that when Ian said ‘model’ he had a straight connection Mickey’s cock. He didn’t want it to respond to the proposition but he found himself once again not in control. Ian stared at Mickey waiting for a response but was left empty.

“This is my final project in Figure Painting at school, and I really need to get a good grade dude. I’m just a poor college student trying to make it through.” Ian almost pleaded. He considered getting on his knees to beg, liking the things that could spark in Mickey’s mind as well as his own, but decided against it. This guy seemed pretty far in the closet, and he didn’t want to spook him too much. He really did need him for his project. After a long moment of silent consideration and lots of looking up and down, Mickey came to a conclusion.

“Okay.” 

“Really?” Ian asks, lifting his pathetic sad frown off of his face and raising it into a small smile.

“Yeah, but only because I understand being a fucking poor college kid.” Mickey says. The boys take a moment looking at each other, taking a breath of each other, before Mickey steps back a step and reaches behind his back to tug his shirt off. The semi-trance is broken and Ian steps back as well. He turns to leave, walking to the other end of the curtain where a desk is, as well as a floor to ceiling double-door metal locker. Ian opens up the locker and retrieves a folded up wooden easel, covered in splatters of paint that look like finger strokes more than drips. He tucks it under one arm, and then turns to grab a canvas. The canvas is taller than it is wide, Mickey is pretty sure, though would never be able to guess it’s actual measurements. He watches Ian as he sets up the easel, setting the canvas up against it, and locking it into place. Ian's eyes flick up to the half naked Mickey, who in turn was watching Ian. Both blush and look away, Mickey pretending to decide where to throw his shirt, and Ian busies himself with picking out his oil paints. He first of course grabs a charcoal pencil, moldable eraser, and brushes. After his hands are holding just about all they will fit he walks back over to Mickey, cheeks still lightly flushed on both boys. Ian lays his painting supplies on the chair he set up for himself, and goes to grab the last item. He grabs a small side desk from next to his other larger desk, setting it in a close arms distance from the chair and transfers all the materials to the desk rather than the chair. He also grabs the light white cloth from off the table and carries it with him over to Mickey. 

They lock eyes and are quiet for a minute, almost having a silent conversation, though neither knowing quite what the other is wanting to say. Ian eventually breaks the silence with a throat cleansing cough, eyeing Mickey’s pants. Mickey glances down as well, having forgotten he wasn’t finished with his one task. He brings his eyes back up to Ian’s and takes a quiet unnoticeable breath before undoing his pants for the second time. He slowly unzips his jeans, lips parting a little, as he realizes just how hard he got in the few quiet seconds between the boys, in such close proximity. Ian seems to get some sort of message out of that and reluctantly moves backwards to sit in his chair. Mickey, with his new found space quickly shimmies out of his jeans and stands there in his light blue striped boxers. 

“Fully naked.” Ian states, nodding, and putting way too long of a pull on those two words. Mickey licks his bottom lip and before he can catch himself he is pulling off the boxers, and gently tosses them in the general direction of Ian. The artist smirks, though it is soft and all Mickey can think about is kissing it off of Ian. 

“You can sit. Put your ass closer to the edge than the back, but not terribly far. Just enough to strain the core muscles. Then lean back onto the back of the chair.” Ian instructs, and Mickey obediently obeys. Ian then gets up, causing Mickey to tense, though only moves to grab the white sheet and toss is over Mickeys pelvis. Mickey bites his lip to stifle a whimper as the soft fabric brushes across his hard dick. 

“No, that doesn’t look right…” Ian says mumbling to himself as he stands above Mickey, staring down at the man’s pelvis, trying to figure out how to move the sheet to match the look he had pictured in his head. He reaches down to yank the sheet this way and that, but only results in Mickey instantly stiffening up, and the blanket falling off completely. 

“Mick, hold fucking still.” Ian says nicely, grabbing the sheet and laying it over the lap again. Mickey braces himself against the chair, white knuckling the edges of it as he tries to think naked grandma thoughts. By now Ian is used to his models getting hard-ons during his sessions. He understands that he is attractive enough, and photoshoots can become very intimate affairs very quickly.

“Go back to how you were leaning before, though I like your hands the way they are now.” Ian says leaning back to look at Mickey’s full figure again. Mickey shifts his ass back to almost the edge and leans against the back of the chair. He keeps his hands on the edges of the chair, though has lessened his grip marginally as the sheet has covered his hands and his stiff dick. The tenting in the sheet would be painfully obvious if Ian hadn’t also added the instruction to have Mickey’s foot propped up against a small table he had to turn back and find. 

“Spread your legs, Mick.” Ian instructed and he would be lying if he didn’t admit to saying that with a deeper voice that had driven his previous lovers crazy. Mickey swore in his head about this boy, one for calling him a pet name and two for using that fucking voice. He bit down hard on his lip as he shifts his legs apart, dick springing up and definitely tenting the sheet. Mickey grabbed aggressively again at the chair to hold himself back from thrusting up into the sheet for any amount of friction. Ian looks at Mick, mouth watering slightly as he tries to come up with a way to get Mickey’s dick in his mouth.

“Um…It’s not going to go down…” Mickey shyly mumbles, looking at Ian every few seconds but never holding eye contact.

“Do you…” Ian begins but is interrupted by a soft whine from Mickey, eyes pleading as the model gently thrusts up into the sheet. Ian’s own dick had been having a field day with this whole interaction. He normally waits till after the session is over and the model is long gone before rubbing one out, but he feels this time will be a much needed change. Ian’s hand runs involuntarily down his chest, teasing at a nipple for a second before landing on his crotch and squeezing. His eyes flutter closed as he moans loudly and shudders.

“Come the fuck over here.” Mickey growls, eyes dark and blown with lust. It takes Ian three strides with his long legs before he is straddling Mickey, Mick’s mouth attached immediately to his neck biting and sucking all over. He seems to immediately find all the spots that make Ian sing, and has him a whimpering mess. Ian tries lightly humping Mickey, though he is conscious that his jean clad body against soft sensitive skin isn’t anyones idea of a good time. Ian shoves himself off of Mickey for a second to kick off his low top black converse, and to tug off his grey skinny jeans. He lastly drags off the tight forest green shirt, and is right back on Mickey. This time there is frantic dry humping, and Ian’s mouth is on Mickey’s neck.

“Gonna fucking mark me up, huh?” Mickey asks in between thrust filled moans. He can feel Ian’s smile against his neck and he gives a gruff laugh. He reaches his hands between the two of them, holding both dicks in his hand and gently rubbing them. 

“Got lube?” Mickey asks, gasping as Ian bites down hard on the tendon in his neck. Ian then kisses where he bit and laps at it, massaging it back from pain to pleasure making Mickey nearly purr. Mickey gently shoves Ian off his neck and looks him in the eyes, both blown and wide. 

“Lube?” Mickey asks again, this time the question registering with Ian. He nods silently, and wipes his mouth as he gets up, the back of his hand now slick with his saliva. He returns in record time with a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms. Mickey’s eyebrows prick up and question.

“I didn’t know what kind of…are you…should we…do you…” Ian stutters and blushes realizing his embarrassing assumption. 

“Fucking get on me.” Mickey flashes a smile and lifting his hips in a terribly suggestive thrust he winks at Ian. Ian moans loudly, swearing, and shakes his head slowly a smile creeping up on his lips. He quickly walks over to the chair where Mickey is and straddles it, throwing Mickey’s legs over his thighs assuming Mickey will know what to do.

He does, and as soon as the condom is on Ian’s dick, and his fingers all lubed up, he shifts his hips up for a better angle. Ian’s breath hitches as he begins spreading Mickey out, his hole so tight around his fingers, he can’t even imagine what it would feel like around his cock. Mickey moans at every thrust, and squirms with whimpers when Ian teases the outside. Ian presses against Mickey’s hole, gently pressing inside, running his fingers in small circles, stretching Mickey.

“Ian, Ian, IAn…” Mickey moans his name over and over again thrusting up into the air, the sheet long fallen off onto the ground. Ian smirks, though Mickey can’t tell though his closed lids, and thus is totally caught off guard when warm and wet lips kiss the head of his dick. 

“Fuck!” Mickey exclaims and thrusts up against Ian’s mouth. Ian gladly takes him in, sucking him down and circling the flat part of his tongue around Mickey’s head. Mick tries not to thrust up too much, not wanting to hurt Ian, but he couldn’t help himself as Ian sucked him down and fingered his hole at the same time.

“mhmmm, Ian, please Ian…” Mickey mumbles, his legs shaking a little as they grow tired of being so taught. Ian understands and leans back up from the blowjob. He gently removes his fingers, earning a whimper from Mickey at the loss.

“Don’t worry,” Ian starts but doesn’t end up finishing as he takes his own huge swollen and throbbing cock in his hand. He can’t help but stroke it a couple times. Mickey opens his eyes, confused as to why the pleasuring stopped, as his eyes land on Ian’s dick.

“Oh fuck me” Mickey moans loudly, thrusting up into the air again.

“Oh, I fucking plan to, Mick.” Ian says smirking and breathing loudly as he squirts some lube onto his cock and slicks that up as well. 

“You ready?” Ian asks, making sure though he is pretty sure he knows the answer. Mickey responds by grabbing the back of his thighs and lifting his legs up, giving Ian even more access. Ian nearly chokes on the glorious sight of Mickey, open and waiting, lube shining up the rim. 

“I could come just looking at your asshole all prepped for me Mick.” Ian says, running the head of his dick against Mickey’s hole making them both moan loudly. Mick tries but fails at a response, so turned on, everything in his body giving it’s entire attention to Ian pushing the head of his dick into Mickey’s hole. Ian begins slowly, bottoming out with the first thrust then pulling nearly all the way out, just leaving the head to stretch Mickey.

“Hard.” Mickey barks out.

“Oh yes I am.” Ian responds though neither really register it as Ian thrusts deeply and swiftly into Mickey. Gasps are exchanged as Mickey clenches around Ian.

“Fuck Mick, you can’t do that to me, I’ll come in fucking seconds.” Ian says, only earning another tight clench from Mickey. Ian curses aggressively under his breath and decides he wants to get Mickey back for that. He rearranges his hips a bit, still deep inside of Mickey and begins thrusting deep and hard, unrelenting, slamming into Mickey. The sound of skin slapping together mixed with moans and gasps and whimpers and heavy breathing being the only sounds in the room. 

“Fuck me, fuck me Ian just like, just like fucking that Ian yes Ian there yes yes yes yes fuck me there Ian please oh yes,” Mickey is a mess of words as Ian slams into his prostrate, pounding into it again and again.

“Mick, I’m gonna come.” Ian warns, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood.

“Fucking do it, baby.” The word slips out of Mickey’s mouth, and at any other time he would be so embarrassed he would punch the other guy but right at this moment he barely notices because right at that moment Ian wraps his lube slicked hand around Mickey’s cock and starts rubbing up and down, flicking his wrist around the head and sliding a thumb over it. Mickey is whining and whimpering Ian’s name over and over again.

“Ian, I’m gonna come too.” Mickey is soon right there at the brink with Ian, biting his lip tasting blood and desperately trying to hold back his thrusts into Ian's hand and back down on Ian’s dick but failing miserably.

“Then come. Come for me.” Ian coos, and after just a couple more pumps he feels the warm liquid oozing over his hand, and landing on his chest.

“Keep fucking me till you come.” Mickey instructs breathing heavily, eyes closing involuntarily. Ian comes the second those words leave Mick’s mouth. They both ride out their orgasms, thrusting lazily now though, against each other. Mickey pulls his legs back down and lets out an appreciative moan as his muscles thank him for stopping the stretching. Ian sits up straight, surveying the mess. 

“Do you think I could spoon some of the cum off you and mix it into my paints?” Ian asks already getting up to find a cup. 

“Dude, that is fucking weird.” Mickey says, but is too worn out to protest properly. 

“Yeah, I know. It just seems like an interesting kind of 4D thing to do ya know? Incorporate the person into the painting…?” Ian says finding the cup he wanted in his metal locker and coming back over to find a sleeping Mickey. Normally Ian would scoff and be pissed that a fuck fell asleep like that but this time it was kind of perfect for Ian. Mickey had managed to sit back into the perfect position that Ian had wanted earlier. He couldn’t imagine that it was comfortable to sleep in but Ian decided to ignore his conscious for the perfect painting. He quietly and softly ran the rim of the cup along Mickey’s stomach and thighs. He was really out, as he only stirred a little. Ian put the cup aside now full with about 1/4th a cup of semen, both his and Mickey’s. For some reason that made him smile, the thought of both of them on the canvas, evidence of what they had done. He giggled at the idea of buying a black light just to put this painting on display. 

Ian waved away his goofy thoughts and walked over to where the sheet had fallen behind and kind of beside Mickey, and he picked it up. Laying it gently over Mickey’s hips, he maneuvered it so that Mickey’s dick was laying uncovered between his spread and semi-raised legs, while his hip bones and hands were hidden by the white cloth. Ian stood back to admire his work, and smiled. 

“Maybe I’ll have to ask him to come again…” Ian said with a laugh. He still had two other paintings to do after all. 

He sat down on his own chair, still naked, and got to work smiling and humming at the sleeping model.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short, I am currently writing the next part to it where they go back to painting. this one is just a dumb short filler to show feelings and kind of in between time. Love!

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.” Ian gently shook the still passed out Mickey. Mickey returned grumbles but did move restlessly starting to wake up.

“I gotta get to class, so you gotta go.” Ian said rather matter-of-factly. He straightens and moves over to his paints, checking that caps are screwed on tightly and everything is put away neat enough that he can find it later but that he won’t forget what he was using. 

“Fuck…” Mickey said, thought it was more of a gust of breath than something that needed to be said. He lifted himself off the chair, and ran a hand over his face. He looked over at Ian who was hiding behind his easel, abashedly staring at the still groggy Mickey. There was something about watching someone wake up that Ian adored. The innocence of it, how vulnerable the person was. There hadn’t been an abundance of men waking up in Ian’s bed, he knew, but every single time he couldn’t help but stare. The way each person woke up was so different and personalized yet was also exactly the same. His fingers itched for art supplies as he watched Mickey scratch at his chest, and run a hand through his still sex mussed hair. Everything about Mickey just screamed at Ian to capture. He wanted to paint his body all day, in every position and lighting that he could. He wanted to stay all day with Mickey in his tiny minimalistic flat; learning about him and putting all the personality he knew Mickey had into his paints. Any canvas or medium really, oils, charcoal, watercolor, pen and ink, pastels, all of it. He wanted to find the perfect way to express this boy. The perfect way to understand and explain him. 

“The fuck are you staring at?” Mickey asked, vaguely annoyed at this guy staring at him while he was waking up and dressing. He assumed it was just an artist thing, the staring problem, and worked on killing his rising blush as he buckled the belt on his jeans. 

“You.” Ian admits smiling, “I want to paint you again.”

“You do, huh? The painting part specifically or the fucking part as well?” Mickey asks, quirking up an eyebrow as he tugs his shirt over his head. He musses his hair again as he walks over to Ian where his shoes and socks are. Ian’s breath hitched, though he tried to hide it with a cough as Mickey leaned over the easel to get nose to nose. 

“I’ll think about it.” Mickey said with a smile. Ian leaned in, eyes closing for the kiss but Mickey just pushed off his chest and stepped back to the chair to put his shoes on. Ian’s eyes spring open but he doesn’t inquire, so Mickey doesn’t give him an answer. Just looks down at his boots and shoves his feet in them. Mickey gets up and escorts himself out of the apartment, Ian’s eyes following but his body staying still. Once he hears his front door slam he slips out of the trance and shifts his gaze to his half finished painting. He stares it down, thinking of all the things he needs to finish and the things he wants to add. 

“Fuck it, class can wait.” Ian says, pulling off his jacket and sitting back down on his stool. He uncaps his paints again and closes his eyes, conjuring up the image from last night of Mickey asleep on the chair. He smiles at the thought and begins mixing his colors. Once satisfied he slides his thinnest brush through the dark grey and throws highlighting into Mickey’s hair. Ian starts humming again, smiling, and keeps painting. 

Mickey, out on the street, tugs a cigarette out of his near empty pack and lights it from the lighter that the other pocket held. Mickey leaned against the brick wall outside for a moment, taking in a large tug, holding it inside his lungs, savoring the burn before blowing it out of his nose and smiling. He felt like an idiot smiling like that. It was just a fuck, he got laid enough that is was nothing special. Even Ian’s nearly nine inches he had seen before. Yet, something about the whole thing, maybe it was the painting, Mickey told himself. He just liked it. Plus, he had never passed out after a fuck. Never felt safe enough, or finished enough. So maybe the smile was a little about Ian’s definite nine inches. It didn’t matter. He was smiling and feeling like an idiot but he couldn’t shake it off. After trying to scowl the smile away with a few pulls on his cigarette he scoffed and threw it on the ground, stomping off to his own place. 

“Fucking artists.” Mickey muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

“You called!” Ian’s voice rang over the line. He got grumbles in return but it didn’t sour his mood a bit. It had been a week since the first painting and Ian couldn’t hold in his excitement. 

“I finished the painting! A week is like the fastest I have ever completed a painting like this, complicated and semi-intricate ya know, but it’s done. Would you wanna see it?” Ian asked, his voice only faltering on the last question. He realized that maybe Mickey didn’t want to see the painting, didn’t care about the artwork. Maybe Mickey just wanted the fuck and that was all. Ian sighed at the thought. He didn’t mind just fucking the guy, but he felt like he would be losing something great, his muse almost. He nearly fell to his knees and prayed at that moment, hoping Mickey would want to see the painting and maybe pose again.

“Yeah,” Mickey says, as if almost an after thought, “Yeah I wanna see it.” 

“Oh? I mean, oh awesome!” Ian felt the breath he didn’t know he had been holding rush out of him. 

“Yeah…” Mickey rubbed the back of his neck unsure if he should invite himself over or if Ian was going to get the hit.

“Shit, when do you wanna see it? I’m free now, on Friday’s I only have the one class at 8am which I’ve already done so my schedule is free.” Ian said after registering the semi awkward silence. He had nearly convinced himself that Mickey didn’t want to see it.

“I’m on my way over.” Mickey said and then the line clicked off. Ian looked down a little dumb struck but smiling. 

———

Buzz buzz buzz

Ian nearly sprinted to his front door, buzzing Mickey into the downstairs door. He stood by his own front door, patiently waiting to hear Mickey’s heavy footsteps before he opened the door with a smile. 

“Hey.” Mickey said as he arrived at the already open door with Ian standing like an unusually happy scarecrow. 

“Hey!” 

“The painting?” Mickey asked, gesturing generally to the flat. He hadn’t stepped foot into the apartment yet, a little off put by Ian’s overly enthusiastic energy.

“Oh yeah, of course!” Ian seemed to snap back to reality and Mickey was thankful. The dude was being fucking weird. Ian led him over to the art supplies section of the one roomed flat, and the painting was exactly where it had been before. Ian moved away from it, as if it was on showcase at a museum or something and he was just waiting for a critic to come and discuss it with him.

“Fuck…” Mickey went again with the out breath rather than a true vocalization. His eyes scanned every inch of the painting over and over again, trying to soak it all in. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. It was Mickey there, sure but that wasn’t what made it great, he thought. Some how, even though he was asleep, Ian seemed to paint him as if he was effervescent. The way the light hit his body, it was so simple yet elegant and angelic. Mickey didn’t want to admit it but it was almost enough to spring tears. He, of course, would never cry but it was almost that good.  
 “What do you think?” Ian asked, leaning forward on his toes, as if the closer he got to Mickey maybe he could tap into his thoughts.

“It’s fucking beautiful, man.” Mickey admitted.

“You like it?” Ian’s smile seemed to fill his entire face.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought it was just going to be like fucking perverted or some weird shit like a that dude that painted the fucking melting clocks but like melting dicks.” Mickey said, eliciting a laugh from the artist, “but nah dude, this is so fucking good. I mean, not the me part but just your painting dude. Shit.” Mickey rubbed his hand across his mouth, biting on his lip a little before tearing his eyes from the painting and swinging them up to the guy responsible. There was a light blush running across the gingers freckled nose and cheeks but Mickey was more distracted by his eyes, pupils blown wide. Mickey’s lips parted at the sight, and immediately Ian was on him. Lips pressed against lips, melding together to fit into perfect halves of a kiss. Ian’s hands found themselves winding into Mickey’s hair, while Mickey’s were roaming down Ian’s sides until they found home in belt loops, tugging his hips tighter against Mickey’s.

“Can I paint you again?” Ian asked, pulling apart just an inch, only enough for the words to fall from his mouth but not enough to let the heat disperse between their bodies. 

“Before or after sex?” Mickey asked, eyeing Ian’s neck wondering where his sweet spot was.

“Uhh…” Ian stuttered, clearly unable to decide. Mickey mentally shook his head.

“After.” Mickey stated before moving his mouth in and licking stripes up Ian’s neck from his exposed collar bone, praise be to v-neck shirts, to the bottom of his ear. Ian shivered and moaned quietly, thrusting his hips softly against Mickey’s. 

“Wait wait,” Mickey stops shoving his hands against Ian’s to separate them a bit, “Did you actually spoon up our cum for the paint?” Ian hesitates.

“…yes.” 

“Fuck, why does that turn me on?” Mickey moans, eyeing the painting then thrusting against Ian again his eye traveling back at every moan made by Ian. Ian leans back in and catches Mickey’s lips with his and sucks his bottom one into his mouth. He rolls it along his tongue before catching it between his teeth and letting Mickey slowly pull it back. Mickey moans low, transforming the sound into more of a growl and Ian finds himself pushing Mickey in the direction of his bed across the room. 

“No chair?” Mickey grins wickedly as he is shoved on his ass onto the low futon. Ian matches his grin and leans down, arms on either side of Mickey and kisses him lightly, lips barely even touching. Mickey wants to deny that it turns him on more than anything else but can’t. His dick has already registered and is attempting to tent his baggy jeans. Ian moans and palms Mickey’s dick.

“Fuck!” Ian outbursts, pushing Mickey back on the mattress hard enough for his breath to leave him, “Strip.” 

Mickey smirks at Ian as he starts tugging off his clothing. Ian watches for a moment before he moves back to the art supplies corner and retrieves the lube and pile of unused condoms from last time. He returns to a near naked Mickey, clad now in only his boxers and socks. 

“Now you strip for me.” Mickey instructs, leaning up on his elbows. Ian scoffs but throws the lube and condoms on the mattress anyways. He reaches behind him to tug off his maroon t-shirt, smiling when it is off. 

“Want me to dance too, ya pervert?” Ian asks jokingly. Mickey’s eyes widen marginally but it’s enough for Ian to notice. He just smiles. 

“Alright, Mickey. I’ll dance for you if you’ll pose for me again.” Ian offers.

“I mean, I already said yes but fuck yes.” Mickey shrugs. 

“No, I meant pose for me more, to finish the line of paintings I am supposed to be finishing for my final.” Ian gets an eye roll and smile in response, but takes that as a yes. 

Ian’s smile just widens as he begins to unbutton his pants. He swirls his hips, thrusting every couple counts in his head, one his zipper is down. He shimmies his jeans off, and now in only his boxers and socks. Ian drops down to his knees, crawling till Mickey is locked between his legs. His shoulders fall till his face is inches away from Mickey’s, hands bracing on the bed next to his head and Ian rolls body waves against him, grinding down hard and smirking. Mickey growls again, and slaps a hand around the back of Ian’s neck to pull him down for a hungry and ravenous kiss. Ian pauses for only a moment, surprised, before he is back to grinding down, moaning as his cock finds friction against Mickey’s. Mickey uses his other hand to try and tug down Ian’s boxers. He gets the message, leans up and falls to the left side of Mickey, tugging them and the socks off before he is back on Mickey. Mickey smirks into the kiss and uses both of his now free hands to pull down his own. Mickey almost leaves his socks on, having forgot about them but Ian pulls away and flicks his head to the general area where Mickey’s feet should be, and he gets the picture. He smiles as he folds himself to the side to yank them off and throw them across the room.

“Happy now, Princess?” Mickey asks and is kissed in response. Mickey holds his hands on Ian’s hips, helping Ian keep the rhythm of the rolling consistent till they are both breathing hard and dripping precum.

“Are you gonna dry hump me all night or are you gonna fucking get in me, Firecrotch?” Mickey snaps, sounding more horny and exasperated than actually angry. Ian smirks but complies and reaches for the lube and condoms, preping his fingers and dick. Mickey moans at the sight of Ian rubbing the lube all over his fingers, and Ian has suppress the urge to kiss Mickey mid moan just so he can feel the vibrations. Ian pushes Mickey down and begins massaging Mickey, stretching him open. Mickey growls low every time Ian scissors his fingers open wide and leans his head down to nip at Mickey’s ass cheeks. 

“Ian…” Mickey warns and Ian understands. He pulls his fingers out and straightens up to align himself up with Mick’s hole. He teases around his hole with the head of his dick for just a moment before sliding it in slowly. Mickey pushes back into Ian, his moaning and whining begging Ian to go harder and deeper. Ian complies and thrusts hard, his dick grazing Mickey’s sweet spot. They fuck like this, each pressing into the other for a while till Mickey can’t take the heat welling up in his dick. He wraps his hand around his dick and quickly jerks himself off, panting and sloppy. Ian has his body wrapped over Mickey’s back, his mouth sucking on Mickey’s neck and watches as Mickey rubs himself off. Ian watches for a moment, right at the edge, before an idea springs into his mind and he is pulling himself off of Mickey and finds his feet moving himself to the art corner of the flat before he even knows what he is doing.

“The fuck?” Mickey whines, turning to look at what could possibly Ian at this moment in time.

“I wanna paint you like that. Exactly like that, don’t move.” Ian shouts without looking back at Mickey, just haphazardly throwing his painting supplies around the room searching for the perfect colors. He grabs his blacks, peaches, reds, whites, greys. He looks back at Mickey for a moment, smiling at the annoyed look on Mickey’s face. His eyes flick to Mickey’s hand still pulling at his dick, though slowly and gently now. Ian grabs his easel and a blank canvas and quickly sets it up. He brings his stool and sits down, quickly scratching out a rough outline of Mickey and the bed and sheets around him. He is about to open a paint when Mickey clears his throat. 

“Do you think that you could maybe take a fucking picture and paint off that later?” Mickey huffs, though his face is getting red from trying not to cum. Ian smirks and gets up, crossing the room to pull his digital camera from a shelf. It’s not great quality, just a small red one that he got for Christmas one year. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of all the little details in the lighting and sheets that he will probably lose in translation, but gears up to take the photo anyways. He is still hard and certainly wouldn’t mind his dick back in Mickey’s ass. 

“Drop your head and keep your hand around your dick. Close your eyes.” Ian instructs and raises the camera.

Click

Once the photo is taken the camera is dropped onto the edge of the bed and Ian is back on Mickey, wrapping around him and gently pushing in. Mickey moans loudly and shivers as Ian licks a stripe across his neck. They regain the pace they had earlier, Mickey’s hand quickly pulling his dick. Ian closes his eyes, just for a moment, as the heat coils up in the pit of his stomach and comes, then opens them immediately to ride out his orgasm by watching Mickey come. Mickey comes a minute later, his fist curled around the head of his dick, cum spilling over and shooting up. Once he is done he turns his head to kiss a smiling and still panting Ian. 

“Did you get the picture?” Mickey asks smugly, as Ian gets up and goes to retrieve the camera. He pulls the condom off and ties it closed, flicking it into the trashcan at the right bottom corner of his bed. He clicks the gallery open and smiles wide at the image before him. 

“Hell yeah.” Ian switches back to the camera view and aims it back at Mickey, taking in his full frame, leaking cock and all. 

“Perfect.” Ian moans taking the photo. 

“Pervy fuck.” Mickey says smiling, “Got a rag to clean me up with?” 

“You can just go take a shower, bathroom is clearly over there. I’m gonna sit and paint for a bit. Feel free to take your time or whatever. Everything is in there. Towels on the back of the toilet, washrags in the top left most drawer.” Ian says, eyes flicking to Mickey as he speaks but keeping mostly to his paint mixing as his muse gets up to shower.

“Feel free to join me.” Mickey offers last moment before disappearing into the bathroom, his gathered clothes an awkward bundle in his arms. Ian chuckles quietly and waits for the second part of that idea.

“Wait, fuck never mind this shower is fucking tiny, dude.” Mickey shouts from the bathroom and Ian knowingly shakes his head. As he hears the water turn on he wonders to himself how to get this boy back into his bed since he has his three pieces basically for his figure painting final. 

About fifteen minutes later Ian hears the water turn off and he perks up a little bit. Mickey walks out clothed, much to Ian’s disappointment, with just a towel rubbing the water out of his hair.

“So, I was thinking in the shower,” Mickey starts, “Did you get all the stuff you need for your project? Are we done?” 

“Um…yeah, I suppose.” Ian looks up from his painting, locking eyes with Mickey.

“We don’t have to be done…” He adds, gently testing the waters to see if it is something Mickey might be interested in. 

“But your paintings are done…” Mickey adds, though he searches Ian’s face, almost looking for an excuse to keep coming over.

“There will always be more projects. Plus I also kind of just like using you for art.” Ian offers.

“So you’re just fucking using me? And here I thought maybe you liked fucking me but no, anything for a good painting, right?” Mickey joked walking around Ian to look at the painting to far. Only the back was painted, the walls behind Mickey’s body, an off white color. He squinted at the sketch of himself in the middle of the canvas, trying to imagine himself in full cover in this position. Exposed and raw, hungry and animalistic. It scared and embarrassed him slightly, but also excited him. Ian liked him, wanted to see him like this often, and that wasn’t something that happened to Mickey. He smiled, though tried to hide it. 

“You can watch me paint, if you want.” Ian nods to the chair he had previously posed on. Mickey paused a moment to consider it before he went and got the chair, letting it land next to Ian. 

“Got nothing better to do.” Mickey explains as he lowers himself into the seat and watches Ian’s hand move back to the canvas. He pretends not to see the smirk gracing Ian’s lips.


End file.
